gleaming in the fluorescent light,

brighter than the moon against a pitch-dark sky,

breath catches, it’s beauty unforetold.

not everything in the lost and found has been discarded.

sitting on my bedroom floor

, clutching my sides as the tears roll down my cheek- my neck.

changes came so quickly- how could I have ever seen it coming?

I am lost, but I am not found.

the life pours out of them,

the corners of my mouth twitch up instead of down,

warmth of friendship surrounds me,

maybe I am not lost- but nor am I found.

what is a mirror? what do I see?

why can’t I see the shattered soul instead of the false smile?

why can’t I see the kind soul instead of the extra skin?

close my eyes instead, I don’t see me-

I see a little girl with a red balloon, desperately grasping the string.

it is time to find myself.

the lost and found is a bittersweet place,

with all kinds of gizmos and whozits.

the lovers, and fighters, the quiet, the loud.

all in a limbo. between the lost and the found.

blossoming flowers become new in water, so do the wilted hearts

as the snow melts and the dew forms- happy cries burst forth.

who knows what you might find in the lost and found- who you might find.

I found myself in the lost and found,

because not everything that is lost has been discarded.